


sounds like love

by lunapark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversaries, Barebacking, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapark/pseuds/lunapark
Summary: Merlin refuses to admit that maybe Freya is right—maybe heisin love with Arthur. It certainly would explain a lot. Like why he finally opened up that bottle of earthy smelling cologne that Will got him last Christmas and spent ages styling his hair so it would cover his ridiculous ears and checked on the pie baking in the oven every five minutes to make sure it wasn’t overdone because Arthur hated burnt pie crusts with a fiery passion.But he can’t think about that right now or he’s pretty sure he’s going to vomit all over Arthur’s rose bushes.Sequel toall about a dragon, but can also be read as a standalone piece.





	sounds like love

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I just couldn't stay away from this 'verse. :') Herein lies fluff, terrible horror/Disney/Hocus Pocus movie references, and porn.
> 
> To clear up any squicks—age difference between Merlin and Arthur is ~7 years; barebacking is mutually consensual and both parties have been tested. 
> 
> [Colin Morgan's whole Waiting For You aesthetic](http://lauradonnelly.tumblr.com/post/178811488800) is my Merlin inspo for this fic. Also, I can't fucking believe [Bradley James can knit](https://i.imgur.com/ClgF2AT.jpg). 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it and had a lovely Halloween!

 

•••

 

“ _Shit_ , I am so late— Oh God, sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to swear in front of your kids— No, not you, Frey, I almost trampled a group of trick-or-treaters.” Merlin drops his voice to a whisper, quickly looking back down at his feet as one of the mothers gives him an overtly nasty look. “I think the mom of the one dressed as Violet from _The Incredibles_ wants to disembowel me.”

Freya’s laughter chimes like bells even on the phone. “She’s probably hardcore conservative and can smell how queer you are. Quick, breathe on her children so they can grow up to be heathens too!”

Merlin laughs so hard he just narrowly avoids running into another group of children. He mouths a hasty apology to the chaperon, a college student that blushes and flashes him a pretty smile as he passes by them.

“I, uh, don’t think that’s how it works.”

“No, but _she_ doesn’t know that,” Freya points out, and Merlin can practically hear her smirking on the other line.

He’s less than two blocks away from Arthur’s place, and for a moment he considers just running the rest of the way there—but, one, he’s holding a freshly baked pie in one hand and in the very likely event that he tripped and fell, the pie would be broken to smithereens; and, two, he doesn’t want to show up to Arthur’s all sweaty and disgusting. At least, not this early in the night.

In the end, Merlin just settles for walking briskly. 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me alone on Halloween _again_ ,” Freya laments. “This makes two years in a row, Emrys.”

“You were sick with the bubonic plague last year,” Merlin reminds her pointedly, ignoring her indignant gasp. “Besides...” His face heats and he suddenly feels shy. “Tonight is our—”

“—one year anniversary,” Freya finishes for him in a sing-song voice. “Yes, I know. One whole year since you broke your own rule of never hooking up with strangers.”

“Arthur wasn’t exactly a stranger,” Merlin insists. “I knew Morgana had a brother.” It sounds unconvincing even to his own ears. 

Freya snorts. “So you knew her brother was a hunky twenty-eight-year-old with a monster cock?”

Merlin nearly drops the pie, ears reddening in mortification. “Shut up!” he hisses quietly, though no one is around. 

“What?” she asks innocently. “As I recall, _you_ were the one who called me the next day giddy as could be to tell me all about how good it was. In gross detail.” 

Merlin groans, wishing he could disappear right into the cracks of the sidewalk.

“‘Oh, Frey, he’s so fucking  _hot_. He’s got this amazing ass and thick thighs and he’s hung like a stallion, so I rode him like one—’”

“Okay! Okay,” Merlin interrupts, so flushed now that his skin is beginning to itch. He squirms and a couple trick-or-treaters shoot him funny looks as they walk by. “Point taken.”

“A year later and he’s making you dinner at his place,” Freya goes on as though she’d never been interrupted. She sighs dreamily. “So romantic. I hope you wore something sexy.”

Merlin looks down at his black jeans and candy corn sweater that reads **I’M CORNY FOR YOU**. “Uh, Arthur said to keep it casual. So I did.” A moment of blind panic overtakes him. “Wait, should I not have?”

“Nah, I’m sure whatever you’re wearing is acceptable,” Freya dismisses, ever the voice of calm and reason. “I mean, as long as it’s not that awful sweater with the candy corns on it. So tacky.”

Merlin swallows. Hard. “...Right,” he says in a small voice.

“Oh my God. You _didn’t_.” 

“I thought it would be clever!”

“Christ, Merlin, nothing is ever clever about candy corn!” She sighs again, loudly this time and slightly disapproving. It reminds him of his mother. “Ah well. I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’ll join your pants on Arthur’s floor soon enough.”

“ _Freya_!” he snaps.

“Oh, please,” Freya deadpans, unamused. “Stop playing the role of the blushing virgin. You are getting _laid_ tonight, Merlin Emrys. The only question is how many times.”

“It’s not about that,” Merlin mumbles, turning the sharp corner that puts him right outside Arthur’s front lawn. As expected, there are no Halloween decorations and the porch light is off to deter any trick-or-treaters from interrupting their evening. Merlin’s stomach flutters in equal parts excitement and apprehension. “I just— I want tonight to be perfect. Special. And now I feel like a huge goof for wearing this stupid sweater.”

“You know I was just giving you a hard time, right?” Freya asks, soft and serious now. “A sweater is not going to ruin yours and Arthur’s evening. You know him better than anyone. Do you really think he’d care?”

Merlin grunts out a tiny, noncommittal, “No.”

“This is really bothering you,” she says sympathetically.

“No shit,” Merlin grumbles.

“You’ve never been like this before with anyone you dated. It’s like...” Freya trails off, going silent for several seconds before gasping quietly. “Oh, Merlin,” she murmurs. “I think... I think you’re in _love_.” 

It knocks the wind right out of his lungs. Merlin stands there, paralyzed. His palm is sweaty enough that the phone slips out of his hand and falls into the bed of grass with a soft _thump_. Merlin thinks of old boyfriends and past anniversaries that consisted of nothing more than a bland dinner at an expensive restaurant, predictably followed by sex that was acceptable if not a little boring; he’d never cared for anniversaries, never understood the hype, and now here he is, standing on Arthur’s lawn, stressed silly about the pattern on his dumb sweater. 

Merlin refuses to admit that maybe Freya is right—maybe he _is_ in love with Arthur. It certainly would explain a lot. Like why he finally opened up that bottle of earthy smelling cologne that Will got him last Christmas and spent ages styling his hair so it would cover his ridiculous ears and checked on the pie baking in the oven every five minutes to make sure it wasn’t overdone because Arthur hated burnt pie crusts with a fiery passion. 

But he can’t think about that right now or he’s pretty sure he’s going to vomit all over Arthur’s rose bushes.

“I, um, just got to Arthur’s,” Merlin tells Freya hastily, sounding winded and slightly ill. “Gotta go.”

“Have fun tonight, _lovebirds_ ,” Freya says, and blows him an annoyingly loud kiss before hanging up.

Merlin pockets his phone and wipes his hand on his jeans, taking a few steadying breaths before walking the short distance to Arthur’s front door and ringing the bell. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, antsy and impatient as he waits for Arthur, heartbeat skyrocketing. It can’t be longer than a few seconds, but it feels like a decade has passed before the door finally opens and he’s welcomed by the blinding intensity of Arthur’s crooked, disarming smile. 

“Merlin,” he greets warmly.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Merlin rushes to say once he’s over the initial dazed shock of just how handsome Arthur is and how goddamn lucky he is to call him his boyfriend. It’s becoming a pattern. “I—”

“—fell asleep on the bus and missed your stop?” Arthur supplies knowingly.

Merlin blinks. Between Arthur and Freya, he’s starting to wonder if his thoughts are being broadcast on a loudspeaker for everyone to hear. “Am I really that predictable?”

Arthur chuckles, leaning in to press a gentle, lingering kiss to Merlin’s cheek as he tugs him inside. “No, but I know you,” he explains. “That, and I used to be a grad student, too. Once, I was grading papers late in my office and fell asleep. The next morning, I had no choice but to lecture in rumpled day-old clothes.” Arthur purses his lips. “Very stinky. Very embarrassing.”

Merlin cracks a wry smile. “As if your students paid any attention to what their dreamboat teaching assistant was wearing.”

“Oh, but I’m sure yours do,” Arthur says, voice dropping as he hooks an index finger through one of Merlin’s belt loops and draws him in close, the tips of their noses touching. “You look incredible. Smell just as good, too. Like a woodland sprite. Except...” Arthur brushes back the thick tufts of dark hair hiding Merlin’s ears. “There. That’s better.”

Merlin ducks his head, cheeks reddening. His hand finds the front of Arthur’s shirt, a sleek black button-down. “I thought you said the dress code was casual,” Merlin says, eyeing Arthur’s dark jeans critically.

Arthur frowns. “This _is_ casual.”

“ _Business_ casual?”

“Jeans are never business casual, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Pedantic,” he accuses. Then, grimacing, “I feel underdressed.”

“By the end of the night, I hope we’ll both be _very_ underdressed,” Arthur murmurs suggestively, thumb teasing the slice of skin above the waistband of Merlin’s jeans. “Besides, I love candy corn.” 

“ _Arthur_ ,” he chides. “C’mon.”

Arthur finally relents, eyes creasing into a smile. “I mean it, you know. Your sweater is terrifically cute. And no, I’m not just saying that in hopes of that glittery ‘c’ in **CORNY** magically turning into an ‘h.’”

Merlin breathes out a surprised, airy little laugh and asks, “Why are you so good at that?” 

“At what?” Arthur asks, amused.

“At making me feel like I’m something special.”

Arthur stares at him, face softening, round-eyed and earnest in the way he says, “Because you are,” as if that explains everything.

There is no word that adequately describes the overflow of emotion in his heart—or perhaps there is, but he can’t bring himself to linger on it because it feels like it’s too soon for something this big and frankly it scares the daylights out of him. Merlin offers him a tiny smile and glances away, ignoring the confused and slightly hurt look in Arthur’s eyes as he busies himself with smoothing down Arthur's collar.

“I, um, made pie,” Merlin says without preamble, holding up the paper bag. “It’s cranberry-apple, your favorite. Mom always says you shouldn’t show up empty-handed when someone cooks for you.”

Arthur recovers easily, smiling wide, and Merlin is breathless with relief. “I never say no to pie,” he says. “Plus, now we have an actual dessert and not just the half-eaten box of vanilla ice cream that’s been sitting in my freezer for months.” Arthur takes the bag and sets it on the entryway table, stamping a kiss to Merlin’s mouth that ends much too quickly for his liking. 

“Thank you,” Arthur tells him sincerely. “Are you hungry? I made chicken parmesan. It’ll never be as good as Hunith’s, but I made the marinara from scratch and it doesn’t taste half bad.” He sounds so inanely proud of himself that Merlin has to smile.

Merlin loops his arms around Arthur’s neck and kisses the corner of his mouth, feeling Arthur’s body go lax against his own as he nuzzles there. “I could eat,” Merlin drawls, trailing kisses down the side of Arthur’s neck. “I could also let you fuck me over your new dining table and we could eat afterwards.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Arthur mutters, and Merlin smirks against his throat, popping open the top button of his shirt.

“The possibilities are _endless_ ,” Merlin murmurs as Arthur’s hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans. “The biggest perk of having a boyfriend who lives alone is you can have sex wherever you please and never have to worry about getting walked-in on.” 

Arthur stiffens suddenly. “Shit, that reminds me— Mer— _Merlin_   _wait_ , I forgot—” 

“Forget the condom,” Merlin mumbles into the hollow of his throat, shoving their hips together. “I got tested. It’s our anniversary.”

“No, Merlin, there’s something else.” Arthur tries pulling away, but Merlin just tightens his grip and presses in closer, leg slotting between each of Arthur’s. “There’s, ah, been a slight change in—in our plans.”

“What kind of change?” Merlin asks, not really caring to know and only half listening to whatever answer Arthur is mumbling. Merlin is so distracted peppering kisses across Arthur’s mouth in an effort to get him to shut the hell up that he doesn’t hear the rapid scuttling of footsteps behind him and nearly topples them both over when a pair of tiny hands latch onto his legs, clinging.

“ _Wha_ —”

“Merlin!” Morgana squeals happily. “I thought I heard you!”

“Oh,” Merlin breathes, dazed. He meets Arthur’s eyes briefly, reading the silent  _This is what I was trying to tell you, idiot_  behind his chagrined expression. Merlin wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, turning around slowly and peering down at the six-year-old beaming up at him with reddened cheeks.

“Morgana!” he recovers, grinning as he bends down and scoops her up into his arms. “Hello, sweetheart. Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He glances apologetically at Arthur before tapping her nose. “Aren’t you supposed to be out trick-or-treating?”

“Artie wouldn’t let me,” Morgana says, sticking her tongue out at her brother. 

“Because you have an ear infection,” Arthur reminds her, and Morgana sulks, folding her little arms over her chest. “Dad had a last minute business emergency overseas, so she’s staying with me.” His eyes find Merlin’s, gentling. “I should’ve told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Merlin says, and means it. “Not like I gave you much of a chance,” he adds, impish, and Arthur’s lips twitch with the effort not to smile.

“Artie says today’s your...” Morgana pauses, face scrunched up in concentration as she very carefully enunciates, “an-ni-ver-sa-ry. Did I say it good?”

“Very good,” Merlin says, smiling dotingly, and Morgana preens. “And yes, it is. I met your brother one year ago today.”

“How come we never celebrate _ours_?” Morgana asks him, sounding a bit miffed.

“Um, well...” Merlin looks to Arthur for help. “That’s a bit different, darling.”

“How come?” Morgana persists.

“Because Merlin and I are in a relationship,” Arthur explains calmly. “That means we care about each other, but in a special way that’s different than how we care about you—even though we both love you very much.” Arthur leans in to kiss her temple and Merlin’s heart skips. “When you’re in a relationship with someone, you celebrate anniversaries.”

Morgana stops to consider this, then squints at Merlin, looking far too suspicious for a child her age. “So you and Artie got in a relationship as soon as you met?” she asks curiously.

Merlin’s face grows hot as he remembers their tipsy, ill-advised hook-up on his sad little couch—the one Will refuses to sit on anymore because “oh Jesus _fuck_ Merlin, that come stain didn’t used to be there.” When he looks to Arthur for help, Arthur just smirks at him unhelpfully; it’s a replica of the smirk he’d flashed at Merlin one year ago to the day, moments before giving him arguably the best blowjob and fuck of his life.

Merlin kind of wants to kick him. 

Morgana is still looking at him expectantly.

“Something like that,” Merlin tells her vaguely.

•••

Their plans for a romantic candlelight dinner are interrupted by Morgana, who plops herself down next to Merlin at the dining table and scrapes the cheese and marinara off her chicken, requesting ketchup instead. Merlin can’t bring himself to mind, though, especially when Morgana enthusiastically tells him about the Halloween costume contest they held in her first grade class. Morgana had gone as a queen (“No, not a _princess_ , Merlin. Queens are bestest!”) and Arthur had showed up as her loyal knight.

“I can’t believe you missed the opportunity to dress up as King Arthur,” Merlin points out around a mouthful of bread. 

“She can have the throne,” Arthur winks, then reaches around to help Morgana cut up her chicken into little bite-sized pieces, setting Merlin’s heart aflutter.

As soon as dinner is over, Morgana grabs his hand and drags Merlin upstairs to play witches and wizards, leaving Arthur to clean up by himself. Merlin shrugs helplessly, grinning, and Arthur just shakes his head, equal parts exasperated and fond as he tells them, “Go on then.”

Arthur joins them once he’s done loading the dishwasher and they play for a good hour or so, taking turns pretending they are Morgana’s horses and giving her piggyback rides, until Arthur announces it’s time for bed. Arthur helps her change into her pajamas as Merlin carefully measures out a dose of the thick pink suspension for her ear infection. Without thinking, Merlin takes a quick whiff and promptly makes a face, nearly gagging. He remembers it tasting a lot better than it smells.

Morgana fusses as they tuck her in, but two bedtime stories and a round of hand puppets later, they finally get her settled and kiss her goodnight. She keeps Aithusa curled under her arm, and Merlin smiles at the tiny plush dragon affectionately, squeezing one of its felt ears with a silly amount of gratefulness.

Before he leaves, Merlin sneaks Morgana little packets of Halloween candy as Arthur pretends not to notice. 

Arthur carefully shuts the door behind them. “You spoil her,” he accuses without any real bite.

“How can you say no to that face?” Merlin asks, hand over his heart. “She’s precious.”

“She’s a handful is what she is,” Arthur corrects, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s shoulders from behind and kissing the back of his ear as they start down the stairs. “She thinks you’re her boyfriend, you know.”

“Will you fight her for my honor?” Merlin teases, batting his lashes.

Arthur snorts softly against his ear, gently pushes Merlin down the last step. “Why fight a losing battle?” he asks, eyes glittering in a way that drives Merlin to full distraction. “Besides, it’s not like you have much honor left to fight for,” he adds, low. “I made sure of that last Halloween.”

Merlin chases Arthur into the kitchen and pelts him with Skittles until he apologizes, red-faced and laughing.

•••

A half hour later and they are curled up together on the sectional, Merlin leaning back against Arthur’s chest, nestled comfortably between Arthur’s splayed legs as they share a generous slice of pie. The ice cream is almost melted, and Merlin stirs at it until it becomes a goopy white puddle he can dip the pie crust in.

Arthur makes a noise of disgust. “Now that is just _gross_ , Merlin.”

“Tastes pretty good, though,” Merlin says, munching thoughtfully. 

“You’re such a weirdo,” Arthur says, not unkindly.

“And yet, you’re still dating me.”

“You have me there,” Arthur concedes, absently nosing into his hair. Merlin hides a smile, can’t even begin to explain how inexplicably happy it makes him feel. 

“So, flashback to one year ago,” Arthur says, his voice a quiet rumble. “What were you doing?”

“ _You_.”

“Cheeky.” Arthur gently flicks his earlobe. “But, I meant before that.”

“I was drinking beer and watching a girl projectile vomit pea soup as her head did a full three-sixty rotation,” Merlin says, feeling Arthur shudder against him. Arthur hates the paranormal, possession movies in particular. “Oh, calm down, you big scaredy cat. What about you?”

“I was being dragged from house to house collecting candy with a tiny but lethal witch,” Arthur sighs as Merlin laughs. “Your street was the worst—no wonder they call it ‘University Row.’ Either no one was home or they were partying too loud to hear the doorbell. Then there was the guy dressed as Freddy Krueger that Morgana kicked in the shins and ran away from.” Merlin laughs harder.

“It was all worth it, though, when we stumbled upon your house and you opened the door looking like an absolute _sin_.”

Merlin snorts. “Yeah. A baggy t-shirt and worn out sweats. _Very_ sexy.”

“Not like you were in your clothes all that long anyway,” Arthur adds, kissing the back of his neck. Now it’s Merlin’s turn to shiver.

“Neither were you,” Merlin breathes, voice taking on a high and airy quality as Arthur’s teeth gently scrape across his nape. “Guess we can thank the storm for that one— Oh...” Merlin stops to listen, just now registering the soft patter of rain against the windows and roof. 

“Well, would you look at that,” Arthur says, sounding slightly awed. “It’s raining.”

“I guess some things never change,” Merlin muses.

“And some things”—Arthur lifts Merlin’s hand and brushes a kiss to the back of it—“ _do_.”

It’s a long time before Merlin is able to find his voice again, throat clogged with all these feelings he’s pretending not to know the names of. Only when Arthur squeezes his shoulder does Merlin indicate, rather stupidly, “There’s one bite of pie left.”

“It’s all yours,” Arthur says, chuckling.

“But it’s got a huge chunk of apple. It’s your _perfect_ bite. Here...” Merlin skewers through the apple and crust with his fork, then turns and holds it up to Arthur’s mouth, who rolls his eyes but opens up just wide enough for Merlin to slip the bite of pie inside.

“That’s a good boy,” Merlin praises, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. 

When Arthur reaches for the plate and moves to get up, Merlin gently but firmly pushes him back down onto the sofa. “You cleaned up by yourself earlier, let me take care of this one.” He pats Arthur’s knee sympathetically as he stands. “Besides, wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“I am not _old_ , Merlin,” Arthur protests.

“Thirty is just around the corner.” Merlin grins at the dark look Arthur throws his way, just narrowly avoiding the pillow aimed for his head. “Not to worry,” he calls, running to the kitchen. “I will always be your hot young thing.”

Arthur’s larger than life laughter bounces off the walls, and Merlin can just see him now—full body laughing with his head thrown back, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way. He smiles to himself as he rinses the plate off before loading it in the dishwasher with the rest. 

When Merlin returns, Arthur is sitting up, his smile wide and charming and full of too many teeth, some crooked but all unfairly white. Arthur reaches for his hand and Merlin lets him have it, tangling their fingers together and squeezing.

“Hot young thing, huh?” Arthur murmurs.

Merlin dimples. “Oh, I _so_ am your hot young thing,” he teases. Arthur tugs him closer, urges one of Merlin’s legs up and over his lap so that Merlin is straddling him, his arms circling Merlin’s narrow waist as he looks up at him.

“Let’s prove it then,” Arthur says, leaning up to kiss the dip of his chin.

Merlin laughs softly. “Haven’t slasher flicks taught you anything?” he asks, but his hands move to card through Arthur’s soft hair. “Rule number one: if you have sex on Halloween night, you’re going to die a gory and painful death.”

“Funny,” Arthur mumbles, kissing down his chin to his neck now. “I don’t recall Michael Myers stabbing either of us with a kitchen knife last year.”

“Even if he had, we were too drunk to remember.”

“I remember the important things,” Arthur says, sounding slightly irritated that Merlin won’t shut up. His hands slide down to stroke over Merlin’s thighs, leaving Merlin feeling hot and tingly wherever he’s touched. “Like how fucking good it felt being buried balls-deep in your fantastic ass.”

Merlin would blush if that didn’t turn him on as badly as it did. “You have a filthy mouth, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Oh, I’ll show you  _filthy_ ,” Arthur vows. 

He pulls Merlin’s face down for a slow and thoroughly filthy kiss that is all lips and tongue, the likes of which they haven’t been able to share tonight because of Morgana. Merlin indulges himself for a few long seconds (minutes?) before pulling back to pant quietly against Arthur’s indecently red, spit-slick mouth. 

“Arthur—wait,” Merlin forces out. “Morgana. Is upstairs.”

“She’s sound asleep,” Arthur dismisses, hands slipping underneath Merlin’s ridiculous sweater to smooth over his skin, effectively ending any coherent thought.

Merlin makes a quiet noise of approval and fits their mouths back together. Arthur gives it up to him, leans his head against the back of the couch so Merlin has complete control—and Merlin takes full advantage of the new angle, licking and sucking at Arthur’s lips before tugging them into his mouth with his teeth. 

Before Arthur, Merlin didn’t know kissing could ever get this good; it had always been a necessary but perfunctory part of foreplay with his past partners, who would just rush to get it over with before moving on to the main event. But Arthur _really liked_ _kissing_ —and not just quick and careless pecks that came across as afterthoughts during sex, but full-on making out like they were a fifties couple at a drive-in theater. Arthur, it seemed, couldn’t get enough of his (“stupidly delicious sinfully full”) mouth. Sometimes they would kiss for hours before Arthur even bothered reaching for the waistband of Merlin’s pants; and later, Arthur would make it a point to kiss him breathless over and over again, whether he was three fingers deep inside Merlin or grinding back eagerly against Merlin’s cock. It had taken some getting used to and a lot of awkward conversations (“Is—this all right?” “Yeah, but do you mind touching my dick before it falls off ‘cause ‘m so hard that I might fucking die—”), but now Merlin enjoys it almost as much as Arthur does, loves the frank intimacy of it and how it slowly coaxes his need to the surface.

Arthur tips his face away for a moment, breathing hard, blue eyes glazed over and shades darker. “God, I need to taste you,” he pants. 

“Your bedroom,” Merlin gasps, hips twitching with the effort not to grind down on Arthur’s lap.

But Arthur shakes his head. He pops open the button on Merlin’s jeans and pulls down the zipper, getting a warm hand around Merlin’s cock through his briefs, and Merlin swears, unable to keep from jerking forward into his grip. 

“No. Right here. Just like this,” Arthur says hoarsely. "I want to suck you off with you in my lap, and then I want you to ride me. Slowly. ’Til we’re both out of our minds and I’m begging you to let me come. Then I want you to fuck yourself  _hard_.”

A sudden clap of thunder drowns the sound of Merlin’s groan. “God, Arthur—”

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Arthur asks suddenly, breathlessly. “About...getting tested?”

Merlin smiles, dips down to press his lips to the sharp curve of Arthur's jaw. “We are fucking _bare_ tonight,” he promises, and delights in Arthur’s ensuing shiver. Merlin had actually gotten tested months ago, shortly after they’d crossed the line from ‘dating’ into ‘relationship' because he’d just known that this was it—sex with anyone else would never come close to being this good. Merlin will never admit any of this to Arthur, of course. “And you’re gonna come in my hole and then lick it out of me.” 

“Fuck, what are we even waiting for?” Arthur mutters impatiently. It’s when he starts shoving Merlin’s jeans down his hips that Merlin decides it’s finally time to tell Arthur about the surprise he has prepared for him. 

“Hold on,” Merlin murmurs, grinning now, slow and mischievous. “There’s something I want to show—”

It’s all a blur of noises after that. Another loud peal of thunder. Morgana shrieking Arthur’s name. The frantic patter of footsteps. 

Merlin finds himself on the rug seconds later with his pants down around his thighs. He’s not quite sure what the fuck just happened, but knows that it somehow ended with Arthur unceremoniously pushing him off the couch. 

“Ar—” 

“Bathroom!” Arthur rasps, eyes flitting between Merlin and the stairs in a blind panic. He grabs a blanket off the side of the sofa and throws it over his lap. “ _Now_ , Merlin!”

“But,” Merlin tries, still dazed. 

Arthur’s eyes widen cartoonishly, and it would be comical if not for the pillow he pelts Merlin with—square in the face this time. “ _Morgana_ ,” Arthur hisses by way of explanation, and that sets off alarm bells in Merlin’s head. He scrambles to his feet, pulling his jeans back up and all but flinging himself into the half-bath that is by some small mercy only a few steps down the hall.

As Merlin locks the door behind himself, now not only painfully hard but also out of breath and slightly dizzy, he hears Morgana crying softly as Arthur tries to calm her down.

“Shh, shh. There now, that’s my brave girl,” Arthur soothes. “It’s okay, love, it’s just thunder. You’re safe.”

“But I don’t feel good,” she sniffles, voice muffled. Probably with her little face burrowed into Arthur’s chest Merlin imagines, aching.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks worriedly. “Is it your ear? Is it— Oh no, Morgana, you’re burning up.”

Merlin shuffles over to the sink and splashes cold water over his face and neck—and, after a moment’s hesitation, his dick.

It was going to be a long night. 

••• 

All three of them end up watching movies on the couch well into the night, Morgana snuggled safely between them with a Pedialyte bottle in hand. Arthur checks her temperature every hour until it finally starts dropping, his sigh of relief palpable as he kisses the top of her head. Merlin smiles at him, reaches over the back of the couch and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. Arthur’s soft spot for his little sister never fails to melt Merlin’s heart.

“Next year we should dress up as the characters from _Hocus Pocus_ ,” Morgana suggests, smothering a yawn.

“You mean the Sanderson sisters?” Merlin asks seriously. He bends to whisper in Morgana’s ear, “I think Arthur would be Sarah, don’t you?”

“That makes you Mary,” Arthur interjects. Because Morgana would be Winnie, obviously.

Morgana giggles. “No, Merlin, I don’t mean the witches,” she says earnestly. “I mean the _good_ guys. Dani and Max and Allison. You can be Allison, Merlin.” The wide grin she shoots Merlin is an exact copy of her brother’s. “Because Artie always had a _big_ crush on you like Max had on Allison.”

At that, Merlin glances at Arthur, slowly raising his eyebrows. “Really?” he asks, and is pleasantly surprised when Arthur’s cheeks flush an impressive shade of red.

“Yup,” Morgana says, nodding. “And Artie can be Max ‘cause he would be dumb enough to light the Black Flame Candle.”

Merlin snorts, loudly. “I don’t think Arthur qualifies, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” Morgana asks curiously.

“Because he’s not a vi—” Merlin catches himself at the last possible second, avoiding Arthur’s meaningful glare. “I mean, because his hair is the wrong color.”

“Oh, we can get him a wig,” Morgana dismisses with a careless wave of her small hand. “And Aithusa could be Binx... It would be so fun! Can we, Artie?”

Arthur pats her head affectionately. “We have a whole year to pick out our costumes,” he tells her kindly.

Morgana’s resulting yawn doesn’t go unnoticed by Arthur this time. “That’s it, little lady. Now it’s really time for bed.” Morgana pouts, looking less feverish and more like herself now, and Arthur sighs heavily. He scoots forward and pats his shoulder.

“Hop on,” he tells Morgana, and she clambers onto his back like a tiny monkey.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” she asks quietly, cheek pillowed on Arthur’s shoulder. “Please?”

“Of course you can,” Merlin says immediately, and Arthur gifts him a deeply grateful smile. 

They take turns showering and changing so one of them can stay to keep Morgana company. Merlin pulls on the extra pair of pajamas he keeps in Arthur’s closet, smiling as he listens to Arthur make quiet roaring noises as he flies Aithusa over Morgana’s head. 

By the time Arthur climbs into bed, Morgana is already curled into Merlin’s side, sleeping peacefully against his chest, unperturbed by the storm raging outside. Merlin strokes her hair back and presses a finger to his lips when Arthur opens his mouth, shaking his head.

“Shh. Let her sleep,” he whispers. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you really do have magic,” Arthur murmurs, smiling.

Merlin laughs quietly. “Not in this lifetime,” he jokes, and watches Arthur’s smile fade, replaced by a look too serious, too intense, and something in Merlin’s chest contracts.

“Thank you,” Arthur tells him, the sincerity in his voice making Merlin’s breath catch. He leans over and kisses Merlin’s temple. “And sorry—for earlier.”

“You owe me,” Merlin teases.

Arthur smiles before reaching over to switch the light off. “Good night, Merlin.” He hesitates for half a second, like maybe he wants to say more, and Merlin’s heart starts beating faster.

“See you in the morning,” Arthur finishes with, sounding flat and perhaps a little disappointed. It’s clearly not what he’d been intending to say.

“Good night,” Merlin whispers back, and closes his eyes, feeling strangely bereft.

••• 

Merlin hopes he’ll never get used to Arthur kissing him awake.

His mouth works against Merlin’s slow and sweet, just the right pace for the morning. Still only half awake, Merlin shifts his legs apart and drags Arthur atop his body without a second thought, giving a pleased hum when he strokes his hands down the broad expanse of Arthur’s back to his hips and finds him naked save for his briefs. The wetter and messier the kiss gets, the more Merlin wakes up and remembers what happened last night: dinner and dessert, making out on Arthur’s sofa, the storm—

Merlin’s eyes fly open and he shoves Arthur away without warning. “Morgana,” he gasps, looking down at his side wildly, only to find the bed empty. 

“Oh...” Merlin peeks over the side of the bed, smiling down sheepishly at Arthur, who still manages to look delicious even with ridiculous bed hair and early signs of stubble. “Sorry.”

Arthur gets up from off the rug, looking mildly annoyed. “I suppose now we’re even,” he sighs. He climbs over Merlin to his side of the bed, slipping back beneath the covers. The storm has passed and the rain is gone, but left in its wake is an icy bite in the morning air.

Merlin flips onto his side. “Where’s Morgana?”

“Downstairs. Napping, finally.” Arthur sounds exhausted already.

Merlin blinks. “Wait. What time is it?”

“Around ten in the morning I think,” Arthur guesses. “Had to wake up Morgana early for her medicine, but she fought me like a pistol and refused to go back to sleep. I gave her a bath and made her breakfast, put on the _Halloweentown_ series for her to watch.” The corner of his mouth hitches up into a smile. “I wanted to wake you, but Morgana said we shouldn’t disturb Sleeping Beauty.”

Merlin grins, eyes slitting into tiny crescents. “How’s her temperature?”

“Normal again, thankfully.”

“Good to hear.” Merlin reaches out and absently smooths down Arthur’s hair, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “So. What did Morgana mean last night when she said you had a crush on me?”

Arthur looks more than a little embarrassed, cheeks reddening again. “I have a confession to make.”

“Do tell.”

Arthur hesitates, looking apprehensive. “When we stopped by your house last Halloween—that was the first time you’d ever seen me, right?” Merlin nods confidently. He’d never forget a face (or chest or ass) like Arthur’s. “Well...that wasn’t the first time I’d seen you.”

“What do you mean?”

“A few weeks before that, on a Thursday, I’d gone to the library a little early to pick up Morgana for her birthday, and I saw her talking to you.” Arthur’s smile is gentle and faraway, like he’s reliving the moment in his head. “She was holding up a book and looked so excited, and you were listening to her go on and on—not in the careless way most adults pretend to listen to a kindergartener, but you were hanging onto her every word like what she said genuinely mattered to you.” 

“‘ _King Arthur’s Very Great Grandson,_ ’” Merlin recalls fondly. “That was the book. She was telling me about how she had a big brother named Arthur—‘Artie’ for short.”

“You smiled at her before she ran off. It was this huge, ridiculous, _goofy_ smile that made you dimple and your eyes almost disappear. It was beautiful.” Arthur traces the arc of his cheek. “ _You_ were beautiful.”

Merlin burrows deeper into the covers. He’s always been awkward with compliments, worse when they’re from Arthur. “I didn’t do anything special,” Merlin tries to downplay. “I just did what any decent human being should do. Kids, no matter how small, deserve our time.”

“None of my exes cared about Morgana even half as much as you do,” Arthur reveals, and Merlin is stunned into silence. Rarely does Arthur ever acknowledge his old flames, let alone speak about them so candidly. “I know she can be a handful, but our dad is hardly ever around for her and her mom is, well...” Arthur trails off with a pained expression. Merlin nods solemnly. No one knew where she was or if she was even still alive. 

“I’m all Morgana has,” Arthur goes on. “She’s my entire world. I never thought I’d meet someone who wouldn’t mind that—and then you walked into my life, Merlin.”

Merlin’s heart swells. It’s now or never. He chooses now.

“I love that little girl with all my heart,” Merlin confesses. The lines around Arthur’s mouth deepen as he smiles wider. “And—and her brother, too.”

Merlin stops breathing as he watches Arthur’s smile soften into something more wondrous and private, his eyes devastatingly blue. “You what?” he breathes, because of course he would choose now to be dense.

“I love you,” Merlin repeats. He takes a steadying breath. “And it scares me to death because I’ve never been in love before and didn’t think it was possible to fall in love so quickly. But I did and here I am—freefalling and so hopelessly in love with you, Arthur.”

Arthur kisses him gently, hand on his cheek. Merlin’s fingers circle his wrist, Arthur’s pulse beating like the wings of a bird. Merlin’s lungs expand and it feels like he can finally breathe again.

“At least one of us was brave enough to say it first,” Arthur laughs against his mouth, turning Merlin’s limbs into liquid, sets his heart soaring. “God do I love you, Merlin.”

“One more time,” Merlin insists.

”I. _Love_. You. Merlin. Emrys.” Arthur punctuates each word with a short but tender kiss.

Their smiling mouths stay pressed together until Merlin blurts, “It’s not normal, is it? To fall in love this fast?”

“Nothing about our relationship has been even remotely normal from the get-go, Merlin. I’d seen your come face long before I knew when your birthday was.”

Merlin blushes fiercely. 

“Morgana had it figured out first, actually,” Arthur says.

Merlin huffs out a laugh. “Seriously?”

Arthur grins sunnily. “Remember her sixth birthday party, when you dressed up as a wizard and did magic tricks for the kids?” Merlin nods. “I was helping her cut her birthday cake when she asked me, out of the blue, ‘Do you love Merlin? Because when he isn’t looking, you look at him the way Flynn Rider looks at Rapunzel.’”

Merlin flushes in pleasure. “And what did you say?”

“I told her you were much prettier than Rapunzel,” Arthur says solemnly.

Merlin tackles Arthur onto his back and proceeds to kiss him senseless, fingers in his hair and tongue in his mouth. Arthur pulls Merlin to lie over him, hips hitching up the tiniest bit. Even though he’s still fully dressed, Merlin can feel the hardening line of Arthur’s erection poking the inside of his thigh, and it along with the pent-up emotional release is making him feel a little bit reckless. 

“You sure she’s sleeping?” Merlin asks breathlessly, but he’s already pulled off his t-shirt and is making quick work of his sweats.

“Like a baby,” Arthur confirms, gasping when Merlin grinds down against his cock. “I locked the door just, _fuck_ that’s good, in case.”

They’ve been worked up since last night and Merlin knows that if Arthur keeps rutting up against him like this, they’re both going to come in their underwear in no time—and Merlin has _plans_.

“Wait,” Merlin gasps. He settles his full weight over Arthur’s lap and tenses his thighs to keep Arthur from moving. “Wait, _stop_.”

“Merlin, listen,” Arthur tries, sitting up on his elbows. “I swear we can take it slow next time. I _swear_ —but God, if I don’t get my hands on that gorgeous dick of yours so I can get off right the fuck now, I’m going to—”

Merlin pushes Arthur back down onto the bed, his smile devious. “I have a surprise for you that I think you’ll like.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur groans, sounding wounded.

Merlin rolls his eyes and grabs one of Arthur’s hands, guides it inside his briefs to the silicone plug nestled snugly between his cheeks. Arthur freezes and Merlin pushes the hair out of his eyes, grinning down at him wickedly. 

“ _Surprise_.”

“Fuck, Merlin...,” Arthur breathes. “When— How—?”

“I bought it months ago, have been practicing ever since,” Merlin admits, hips shifting restlessly as Arthur brushes over the handle. “Plan was to show you last night, but I, _ah_ , didn’t get a chance.”

Arthur startles. “You’ve had it in since yesterday?” 

“No. Took it out last night when I was in the shower and hid it.” Merlin bites his lip. “Remember when I woke up to pee?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I did more than just pee,” Merlin says slyly.

“ _Jesus_ , Merlin,” Arthur mutters. He worms in a finger next to the plug, rubbing over the slick, stretched ring of muscle. He’s oversensitive and it’s just this side of painful, but Merlin can’t help jerking back into the touch, wanting more.

“How does it feel?”

“ _So_ _good_ ,” Merlin breathes, moaning softly as Arthur shifts his touch deeper inside, the dual sensations making him leak a wet spot against the front of his briefs. He leans down, mouths up Arthur’s jaw to his ear. “But not as good as your cock,” he whispers.

“I need to be inside you,” Arthur growls. “ _Now_.”

It takes some maneuvering, but eventually they’re able to peel their briefs off and get at each other’s skin. Arthur props himself up against the headboard and hauls Merlin over his lap, drags him down for a wet and hungry kiss. Arthur hooks his fingers through the handle and slowly twists the plug, urging it inside another delicious inch. Merlin gasps into Arthur’s mouth, the head of his cock rubbing up against Arthur’s chest.

“Oh God, _Arthur_ —”

Arthur sucks kisses across Merlin’s chest. “I can’t believe your old boyfriends gave you up,” he murmurs, sliding out the plug at a torturously slow pace, pausing when just the tip of it is still lodged inside Merlin. Arthur has always been fiercely jealous of his exes and Merlin secretly loves it. “I am the _luckiest_ bastard alive.”

The second the plug is out, Merlin fumbles for the bottle of lube, hastily slickening up Arthur’s cock. His _bare_ cock. Merlin’s head spins. He doesn’t think he can last another second without having Arthur inside him.

“I want your cock,” Merlin demands. He scoots back and gets a shaking hand around Arthur, sinks down on his cock with one long, vicious thrust. 

Merlin bites his tongue to keep quiet, clawing at Arthur’s shoulders and holding on tight as the pain bleeds into pleasure and back, his whole body curling in on itself as he pulls Arthur in, deeper than ever before. It feels indescribably right having Arthur inside him like this, hot and hard, just skin against skin and nothing else. Merlin holds Arthur to him, lets him kiss and bite all over his chest, lave his tongue over a nipple as his cock twitches inside Merlin, brushing over the white-hot cluster of nerves that has Merlin seeing stars.

”Jesus, Merlin,” Arthur breathes, remaining dutifully still as Merlin adjusts. “You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

Merlin licks his bitten lips. “Haven’t even started moving yet...”

Merlin grinds down into Arthur’s lap before pulling back up until just the head of Arthur’s cock remains inside, then slams back down. It hurts so fucking good, and Merlin knows they aren’t alone in the house, knows he should be quiet, but he feels wild with how badly he needs to come and can’t bring himself to care, so he throws his head back, moaning his shameful pleasure until Arthur shuts him up with his mouth.

Arthur pries his thighs apart, rubs his fingers over that area where they’re connected and starts fucking up into him, hard and fast and without abandon. Each punishing thrust punches the air out of his lungs, and Merlin is left panting harshly against Arthur’s mouth, his skin, greedily and stubbornly keeping pace. Merlin thinks back to their last untamed fuck, how Arthur had felt pressed along his back, biting down his spine as he drove into him ruthlessly. But this, nothing would ever compare to _this_.  

“Can’t believe—we waited—this long to—oh fuck, _Ar_ thur—”

“Ride me,” Arthur husks, his movements becoming needier and more erratic as he chases his orgasm. “ _Hard_ , Merlin. So you feel it for _days_.”

Merlin fucks himself on Arthur’s cock, frantic and ragged, Arthur’s grip on his hips sure to leave bruises. He drags his leaking cock up and back down Arthur’s sweaty chest, thankful for the friction, not nearly enough to get him off, but just enough to take off the edge so he doesn’t lose his goddamn mind.  

“Next time—I want to fuck you,” Merlin gasps, sac tightening at the thought of being buried this deep in Arthur, surrounded by his dizzying heat. He thrusts down and clenches as tightly as he can around Arthur’s cock until he can’t feel anything else. 

“Oh, oh _fuck_ —” Arthur moans into the hollow of his throat and comes, spurting wet heat inside Merlin’s body, against the too sensitive, screaming bundle inside. Merlin rides him through it, Arthur’s cock flexing deep inside as he milks every ounce of pleasure. 

Arthur leans his head against Merlin’s chest, panting and sagging against him. Merlin strokes his hair as he reaches for his own cock, but Arthur bats his hand away, surprising him. Arthur looks up at Merlin with a determined smile that he knows all too well now and drags him forward, lips wrapping around Merlin’s cock as his own slips from Merlin’s body. 

Arthur goes down on him determinedly and without teasing. He licks up along Merlin’s shaft before sliding the head into his mouth and tonguing the slit just the way Merlin likes. Merlin can’t help but rock into his mouth, slowly at first, then picking up speed once Arthur slackens his jaw and hums around him. Merlin feels something slide down down his thigh, and belatedly realizes that’s _Arthur’s come_ leaking out of his hole. It’s enough to push him headlong over the edge and Merlin bites off a shout as he unravels, coming down Arthur’s throat. Arthur chases every last drop, letting Merlin slip out of his mouth only when he winces and pushes at his shoulders weakly.

“God,” Merlin breathes out a long while later, his limbs useless and brain turned to mush. “That was...”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, chuckling breathlessly.

Merlin pulls back to smile down at Arthur tiredly, sore and dirty but overwhelmingly content. Arthur grasps his chin and kisses him sweetly before urging Merlin up and off his body with gentle hands. Merlin squeezes his eyes shut, grunting in disgust as he lands right onto a wet spot.

“What is it?”

Merlin slits his eyes open. Arthur is staring at him with his swollen lips quirked in amusement, hair tangled and sweaty, a bite mark that Merlin doesn’t remember inflicting blooming bright purple-red on his shoulder. He looks so tempting that Merlin almost wants a round two, but can’t summon the energy. All for the best—Arthur would probably break him in half anyway.

“I’m _leaking_ ,” Merlin complains. 

“Maybe I should put the plug back in.” Arthur’s eyes darken as he smirks. “You could walk around filled with my come all day.”

”Ugh, you’re such a pig,” Merlin groans. 

He tries rolling away, but Arthur pulls him back into his arms. “It’s still our anniversary,” Arthur murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “Technically, we can celebrate for  _two_ days.” His hand drifts lower, finger slipping between Merlin’s cheeks to massage the sore ring of muscle, his own spend easing the way. 

Merlin squirms. It‘s intrusive and maybe a little gross, but he’s surprised by how nice it feels and how much it arouses him. “The perks of fucking at midnight.”

“Indeed.” 

Arthur kisses him promisingly before turning Merlin onto his belly. Merlin spreads his legs wide, sighing as Arthur begins dropping kisses down the length of his spine. He’s just reached Merlin’s tailbone when there’s a knock on the door, followed by the doorknob jiggling. 

“Artie!” Morgana calls. “Is Merlin awake yet? He promised we could celebrate _our_ anniversary today.”

Merlin clears his throat in a feeble attempt to get rid of some post-sex hoarseness. “Be down in fifteen, Morgie.”

“Okay!” she says brightly. “Artie says I’m not allowed to use the toaster, so I made you cereal.”

They both listen to her skitter off. Eventually, Merlin looks over his shoulder at Arthur, who raises an accusing eyebrow. Merlin shrugs innocently and sits up, winding his arms around Arthur’s neck. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to sharing me with your little sister,” Merlin tells him, grinning. “By the way, last night she showed me this _very_ cute picture of you knitting her a scarf. I have such a talented boyfriend.”

“You’re lucky that I love you,” Arthur grumbles, petulant.

Merlin laughs and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“I really am,” he agrees. 

 

•••

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! x


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